


Safe in His Arms

by Annehiggins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:51:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annehiggins/pseuds/Annehiggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean needs sleep, comfort and Castiel. Not necessarily in that order. An AU of <i>Family Remains.</i> Warning: Non-con touching by OFC, but no rape</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe in His Arms

**Author's Note:**

> Posted to Live Journal Jan. 17, 2009 with the following note: While happy to see new eps starting and getting lovely emo-Dean, I wasn't thrilled with the plot. 1) I don't like to see animals killed, especially pets. 2). Um, how did The Girl and/or The Boy (that's how they are listed in the credits) learn to write? 3) Wow, an extra adult -- why not have Uncle Ted wear a "I'm Just Here so They Can Kill Someone" T-shirt? 4) Not too fond of 'look out! There's another one! plot twists. 5) If the first male I saw after years of pug-ugly daddy/grandpa was Dean, I'd want to do a heck of a lot more than kill him.
> 
> Got me to thinking about Hell flashbacks, Dean running on fumes, and how Cas might fit into things. So I wrote up this AU. I don't deal with the writing thing and eliminated the 'surprise, she has a brother' bit (and BTW, if the daughter had given birth to twins, wouldn't her diary have mentioned it?) I let Cas fix everything else, including Dean.

  
**Safe in His Arms**  
By Anne Higgins

Dean Winchester came to surrounded by murky darkness, a stench that rivaled Hell and a head that felt like it was splitting open. Given the last part, neither the ropes cutting into his wrists and ankles nor the gag surprised him in the least. He strained against them, but the knots held tight. Fuck, then memory stirred and he moaned. Ted Carter. The last thing Dean remembered was trying to push the man's body away from the hole leading to this chamber of horrors. He'd sworn he'd get everyone through the night alive, but had failed to prevent the wild girl from taking the boy or to protect the uncle. Nice work, Dean. Just a stellar job. And none of that kind of thought was getting Danny found.

The gag forced him to breathe through his nose and draw in the scent of every rotting corpse littering the floor. Not that he wanted the taste of the foul air in his mouth, either. What he wanted was out of here, a strong shot of whiskey and a fist full of pain killers. In that order. Head hadn't hurt this bad since the last time he and Sam had bumped into a bunch of crazy humans. He shuddered at the memory, and hoped Wild Girl didn't share the Benders' taste for human steaks.

He shifted and another stab of pain flashed through his head. Bitch must have used another one of her secret doorways to get down here and behind him while he tried to free Ted's body. But why not knife him, too? She could want him alive to keep 'the meat' fresh, but he'd seen nothing to indicate she really went the cannibal route. Fuck, he hated it when they got caught up in this human shit. Give him a homicidal demon any day.

A rustling sound drew his attention to the far side of the dim chamber. Wild Girl shuffled into the room, dragging something with her. A second later he made out Danny Carter, tied up like him, but struggling. Alive. Not too late to save the kid. 'Come on, Sammy, find my ass,' he thought. If his brother would just make like the cavalry, Dean would even allow him an 'I told you so' or two over the whole going on a hunt exhausted. Never should have let his guard down enough for her to get behind him. Hell, he shouldn't have missed how she didn't flicker as she crossed the room when she first attacked all of them. If the bitch hadn't been moving so slow, she'd have gutted him on the spot.

Wild Girl abandoned Danny a few feet away, then shuffled back over to Dean. Somehow the stench quota in the room managed to go up, and he'd have vomited if forty years in Hell hadn't left him with a strong stomach. He could see the knife glinting in her left hand as she dropped down on her knees beside him. But she reached out with her right hand, not the left. Skin crusted with filth Dean tried hard not to identify, she touched his face.

It made his own skin crawl, and every inch of him screamed to try to squirm away, but the knife and the helpless boy watching kept him still. The touch turned into a clumsy caress, and his eyes widened. When her hand moved along his jaw, then down his neck, he couldn't help himself and he tried to shift away. Instantly the blade pressed across his throat. Hard enough to cut flesh, but not too deep. Blood began to ooze from the wound, and she smiled, her mouth a ruin of missing and sharpened teeth.

His mind flashed through images. First, a crazy-ass little girl holding a knife oh, so close to his eye; then of demons with blades, laughing as they cut into him. He barely felt her ripping open his shirt, her hands exploring his chest, but her moan as she drew the knife along his collar bone sent his mind reeling beyond the pain and torture, and to the one secret he hadn't shared with Sam – how much he had enjoyed it when he'd finally gotten to do the cutting himself. All the pain he'd ever felt in a hard, often brutal life faded away when he cut into a new soul. No, not away, but transformed into pure pleasure. Some times he ached inside knowing he would never know such bliss again. Those were the moments he reached for the bottle and tried to drink himself into oblivion.

No! He couldn't feel this again. "Sam!" he screamed for his brother as she began to pull open his jeans. The gag made it a muffled parody of sound, she seemed to enjoy. Again she grinned, then cut and pushed until she'd bared him from waist to thigh. All while he screamed for his brother. His brother who hadn't saved him from Hell.

The point of her knife sliced downward in a lazy shallow line from his belly button toward his groin. No, no, no, no, no! Sam! But Sam couldn't save him. She reached for his cock, and his mind latched onto who had saved him. "Castiel!" he screamed with all the power his thoughts and muffled voice could command.

Instantly a wind lashed through the old cellar, hurtling her away. Then Castiel stood beside him.

With an roar of pure rage, Wild Girl threw herself back toward them, the knife ready to strike.

Castiel raised a hand. "Enough," he said, then light flooded out from his fingers to engulf her. It faded in a heart beat leaving nothing behind but the knife, which clattered harmlessly to the floor. As if the metal striking ground had somehow cut them, Dean's bonds fell apart.

The angel knelt beside him, then drew Dean's arm around his neck. With no sign of effort at all, he stood again, pulling Dean upward. In the seconds it took to move from the floor to rest against Castiel, the damage done to skin and cloth had mended. Not even a fleck of his dried blood remained. Head didn't even hurt anymore. Dean wanted to say thank you, wanted to apologize for not believing in him, wanted … many things, but all he could think of was the girl and how he had once been even worse. "What did you do to her?"

If his lack of gratitude bothered Cas, he made no outward sign of it. "Sent her to God."

Not to Hell. "Promise?"

The angel nodded, then glanced downward to where Danny stood, staring at them with huge eyes. "Are you well, young man?"

Danny nodded. "Are you a ghost?"

Cas shook his head. "I am an angel of the Lord," he answered, then held out his hand. "Come, we must return you to your parents."

The boy took the offered hand, then unseen wings swept again sending a mighty wind against a false wall. It flattened, then scattered, leaving the path open into the cellar. A month spent with little more than a few hours of troubled sleep caught up to Dean with a similar punch, and he sagged even closer against his angel.

Cas' arm tightened about his waist. "I have you," he said, and though Dean's legs moved, they supported very little of his weight as an angel carried him out of something very close to Hell on Earth.

Danny caught sight of his parents and ran to them, freeing Castiel's hand. Without a word, he picked Dean up and carried him as if he were a small child.

Dean thought maybe it should embarrass him. Thought it must be a strange for the others to see a smaller man carry him with such ease, but he felt too tired and too comfortable to care. He wanted to sleep, but he heard a dog bark. "Buster?"

"A soul easily restored."

"What about him," Dean murmured, his gaze on where Ted Carter stood beside his sister, a part of the family embrace.

"A more complicated matter, but, despite appearances, the spark of life had not quite left his body."

He'd seemed pretty dead to Dean, but angels weren't supposed to lie, and it was happy endings all around so Dean decided not to argue. "Sleep now?"

"I have you," Cas repeated, and Dean slept.

*

Castiel nodded politely to the Carter family, then turned his steps toward Dean's precious Impala.

He heard Sam Winchester mutter something, then the sound of his running after Castiel.  
"Dean?" Sam asked, falling into step beside him.

"Asleep."

"Um, the car's wheels-"

"Restored."

"But our weapons-"

"In place."

"The house?"

"Cleansed and restored."

"The Carters?"

"Healed. Once we have left their sight, they will have no memory of this beyond the lesson learned of how valuable they are to each other."

"Good. Um, yeah, that's good."

He used his wing to open the backseat door and smiled faintly as Sam jumped when it seemed to swing open on its own. He got into the car and arranged Dean as comfortably as the space would allow, the man's head resting in Castiel's lap.

Sam walked around the car, and slipped in behind the steering wheel. "I um, need the keys," he said.

Castiel could have reached into Dean's pocket and retrieved them, but he had the distinct feeling the idea made Sam uncomfortable. Instead, with a thought, he forced the engine to turn over, then corrected a slight drag on the third cylinder.

"Ah, thanks."

"If you wish to sleep as well, I can guide the car."

"No, I don't want to disturb … you mean from back …. Um, no that's just too … I'm good." Again he fought a smile, and his attention not needed elsewhere, he settled back and enjoyed the feel of Dean's warmth against him, the softness of his hair beneath his hand.

In the past he had noticed the brothers tended to drive at least two hours after completing a job, so it did not surprise him that, despite his own weariness, Sam drove past several exits offering motels.

Somewhere around mile 53, the younger Winchester asked, "Uriel?"

"Temporarily reassigned."

"Anna?"

"A discussion better saved for another day," he answered, unwilling to discuss the matter when he felt so at peace. "And where is the demoness?"

"Ruby. She's around somewhere." Which meant he did not know. This did not please Castiel, but again his contentment said let it be. For now he could take ease in knowing where Sam was.

Sam fell silent again until mile 108. "Uh, I, that is, … um, can I ask, … ah, are you in love with my brother?"

Perceptive, but then again, Castiel had done little to hide how he'd felt when forced to watch Anna and Dean exchange a kiss. "Yes."

"Ah, good. … I um, think … I mean I know he can be … but-"

"I am aware that he returns my feelings, but is confused." In truth he blamed himself for much of what had happened with Anna. The intimacy of raising a soul from Hell had been forced upon Dean. Castiel knew that God had chosen him for the task because he and Dean were destined to love each other, but he had wanted the timing of the next step to be of Dean's choosing. Inwardly, he sighed. He should have bedded his beautiful human immediately, instead of forcing Dean to add uncertainty about them to the list of his woes.

"Oh."

Mile 118 offered a choice of hotels, but Sam continued to drive until the next town, pulling off after having driven 131 miles. He started to turn into the lot of one of the usual rundown establishments they favored, but Castiel said, "No, not that one. Ten miles up the road and to the left."

Sam cast him a questioning look, but drove on. He seemed distinctly uncomfortable when Castiel's directions led to something closer to an expensive resort than a motel. No doubt he was thinking of the expense and how much was left on each of the credit cards he carried. "Um, we really should get two rooms," he said, casting a glance back up the road toward the cheaper places.

It would be the least awkward solution, but days would pass before Dean had slept off what he had done to himself. And he would need another two perhaps even three to fully recover. Castiel could fix it all in an instant, but Dean had been fighting his body for too long. He needed to relearn balance and how to care for himself. Nor did he want Dean referring to him as an angelic can of Red Bull. So, no, they would be here for some time, which meant Ruby would almost certainly appear, and he wanted Sam within his protection when she did. "A two bedroom suite."

Sam blanched. "Um, Cas-"

He pulled the needed plastic card from the pocket of his coat. "Use this. From now on."

"Angels have credit cards?"

"Debit, actually." Although it had no actual limit on it.

"You have bank accounts?"

"Yes. There are those who use God to make themselves quite wealthy. That card, and others like it, draws on an account which subtly draws upon such monies."

Sam grinned, then looked at the card. "It has my name on it."

"For accounting purposes, but any who look at it will see the name you wish them to see."

His grin deepened. "I'll be right back," he said, then hopped out of the car and headed inside.

Castiel sat and enjoyed the silence. He did not share his human's love of the Impala's loud engine, but knew he could acquire a taste for it when the time came for him to remain with Dean. Still he found the sudden silence and the lack of motion pleasant.

It took Sam fifteen minutes to return. "Room 412," he announced, opening the door. "But the elevator is through the lobby."

"I will take Dean and what you might need for defense," he said, mentally gathering up salt and weapons. With a nod he vanished. It was only the second time he'd flown with Dean, and the first he'd had to disperse Dean's vessel as well as his own. A mere trifle, yet he found it oddly pleasing to have him so completely wrapped within his own essence.

Within the blink of an eye, they'd reached the room. He took the bedroom on the right for the simple reason it was closer, then set about stripping Dean down to his boxers. Sam arrived as he finished getting Dean under the covers.

He could hear the younger Winchester moving around the other rooms, putting down salt lines. Sam walked into their bedroom as Castiel began removing his own clothing.

"Whoa! Ah, sorry. I-"

"My touch keeps the nightmares at bay," he said, nodding toward the bed. In just the few moments since Castiel had stepped away to undress a frown had marred the peace of Dean's rest.

He'd thought to reassure Sam nothing would happen while Dean could not respond, but Sam looked angry, then he snapped, "Well, hurry up!"

Ah, of course, the protective instincts of one Winchester for another would override even the awkwardness of an angel in bed with the other. He quickly removed all but his own boxers, then slid under the covers and next to Dean. He drew him close, settling him so his cheek rested against Castiel's bare chest, and the growing tension within Dean vanished. Good.

Sam, who could see Dean's expression, nodded in satisfaction, set the salt lines in the room, then left, although he did not close the door behind him. This suited Castiel. It allowed him to keep an eye on Sam at the same time the man kept an eye on him.

Even in human form Castiel did not need to sleep, but he enjoyed meditating, so he spent the next full day doing so. When need be he shifted to keep contact with Dean, and more than once he tinkered with the functions of Dean's body so he did not wake up from the demands of hunger, thirst or an overly full bladder. And because he had to share the bed with him, he kept Dean clean and free of the staleness of a long sleep.

Once he sensed Dean had slept off the worst of his exhaustion, he began sending dreams into the human's mind. He used them to reassure Dean that Castiel loved him very much; to tell him he alone dwelled within this vessel and had done so for millennia; to weave images of God's approval of their love so Dean need not fear for him; and to promise Dean one day they would be together always. A slight shortcut through things, but it would avoid a multitude of what Dean called 'chick flick' moments later. And perhaps, if they were both very lucky, it would help them avoid any future misunderstandings. But he doubted even he would live so long.

It was well within Castiel's power to banish every memory of Hell, every hint of the nightmares it caused from Dean's mind. He told this to Dean as well, but promised he would not do so until Dean asked him to. He did not approve of Dean's self-hatred and the need to atone for sins no man could stand against, but to heal the wound of the mind without permission was unthinkable. He sighed. Castiel loved him and found the temptation of such a violation difficult to resist, but he understood trust must exist at the foundation of love, so he held himself in check. It was far from easy.

Time fell an hour short of two-full days of rest when Dean finally opened his eyes. "Cas," he murmured and leaned up for their first kiss. A brief touch of sleep warmed lips, then with a muzzy murmur of "That's good," Dean snuggled back down against his chest. For a moment Castiel thought he intended to go back to sleep, but a finger began a lazy circle around his nipple.

His heart began to beat faster, but he lay still, allowing Dean's sleepy exploration of his chest. His cock rose, tenting the sheet covering them, while he could feel the press of Dean's own hardness against his thigh. He wanted to do many things, but he contented himself with slowly stroking Dean's arm.

Sam, apparently highly attuned to the sound of his brother's voice, appeared in the doorway. "You okay, Dean?"

"Yeah," he answered, then briefly interrupted playing with Castiel's nipple to gesture at the bed. "You okay with this?"

Sam nodded. "Kind of low on our weird shit meter if you think about it, Dude."

Dean laughed. "Go away, Sammy."

"Going," he promised, then pulled the bedroom door closed.

Dean's hand returned to Castiel's chest. "I'm used to a couple of bumps here."

"I know."

He went back to playing with the nipple. "You gonna fuck me?"

"Yes." He pressed a kiss to the top of Dean's head.

"Do we need … supplies?"

Castiel shifted Dean onto his back, then stretched out over him. "Your body will receive me without outside assistance."

Dean smiled almost shyly, his legs bending so his knees framed Castiel's hips. "You got the secret decoder ring for my ass?"

"Something like that," he answered, easing off first Dean's, then his own boxers.

A gasp caught in both their throats as their bared cocks brushed against each other. Dean's eyes widened, then filled with heat. He pulled his legs back even further. "Do it."

Castiel helped him get his legs over the angel's shoulders, but gave him a curious look. "Did you not want to do other things first?" There was little knowledge he lacked, but this human constantly managed to mystify him.

Dean seized his head and pulled him into a long, deep kiss, then he let go and said, "Five fucking months of foreplay is enough."

True. Castiel positioned himself, then pushed. Dean's flesh yielded easily and let him glide in smoothly. He gave Dean a moment to become accustomed to the intrusion, then he thrust. He hit the prostate with the first stroke, and Dean's uncertain look vanished into ecstasy. Cries of "harder" and "faster" filled the room, and he did his best to please.

Fast and hard, balls deep almost out then full in again, he pounded into Dean, claiming him, ruining him for the touch of any other being. And all the while Dean moaned and pleaded for more. Castiel obeyed, able to hold off his own need for release until the moment, he felt Dean's body grip him even tighter. With one last hard thrust, he sent them both plunging over the edge, and without conscious thought his hands clutched Dean's shoulders. He cried out in joy, when Dean's hands held his shoulders just as tightly. Mine! Their bodies screamed it and he saw the word echoed in Dean's eyes. There would be no more Annas, no more doubts about what each meant to the other.

For a few moments neither moved, then together they disentangled enough to get comfortable, but stay wrapped around each other. They began to kiss -- gentle, but thorough presses of lips to lips or sweat-dampened skin. Lazy touches that left them much as they had begun with Dean resting against Castiel's chest. A silence which begged sleep followed, but Dean chose to speak instead. "I enjoyed it."

Such was his bond with this human that he knew Dean meant something far darker than what had happened in their bed. "When I came for you I saw your soul stripped bare. You could hide nothing from me in that moment."

"I … don't want Sammy to know."

Castiel understood. Another part of that damaged soul had been the obsessive need to be strong for his brother. He could not imagine the pain it must have caused Dean to tell Sam what had happened in Hell. The idea of telling him the deeper secret of how much he had enjoyed torturing others must almost rob him of the ability to keep his heart beating. "I know, but there will come a time, my love, when a lack of such knowledge will leave him vulnerable to Lilith."

"I know."

"I will tell him if you wish."

Dean's arms tightened around him, and he felt a tear drop upon his chest. "I have to do it," he said, his voice shaken. "But could you maybe stick around?"

"Yes." He knew Dean resented fighting some of the battles Heaven left him to on his own, and burdened with his own duties, there was nothing Castiel could do to justify assisting a warrior who so seldom really needed his help. But the matters of the soul and mind were entirely different. "I will always come to you when you truly need me."

"Promise?"

"I swear it."

"'kay. Kind of tired again."

Castiel kissed his hair. "Then rest, my darling. I have you." And Dean slept.

End


End file.
